


Society Pages

by Vana



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 15:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7110424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vana/pseuds/Vana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written two years ago, just AO3'd now. Love to my dedicatee from me and Ray-Ella.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Society Pages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KretinaDivina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KretinaDivina/gifts).



> Written two years ago, just AO3'd now. Love to my dedicatee from me and Ray-Ella.

**From the Belle Fontaine (Alabama) _Mercantile Adviser,_ June 13, 1962**

_We of Belle Fontaine are proud of our Cotton King and Queen 1962, Bonifer Hasty and Ray-Ella Targarien. Bon and Ray-Ella will have the honor to ride in Mayor Owen Merryweather’s cherry-red Thunderbird in the Boll Weevil Parade. The parade will be held Sunday after church and biscuits._

Somehow the newspaper clipping had made it through the fifty-two years of moves, marriage, children, drinking, divorce and even her two babies leaving her – one forever for the great beyond and one for the Orient when she married an Easterner with a pony tail. Rhaella, who had changed the spelling of her name to fit in or to stand out in swinging New York City in the ‘70s, held the yellowing paper in her faintly shaky hands and traced the tiny type with a sharp nail. 

“Bonifer Hasty,” she murmured to herself. She remembered his clumsy hands on her teenage bosom and his breathing so heavy it filled her bedroom while she held her own breath to hear if her parents were stirring.

She’d heard he became a priest. That was after all the children and the deaths and the scandal and after the tabloids screamed from Los Angeles to Miami about Rhaella and her husband. “Bonifer Hasty, man of the cloth,” she said aloud. Her Alabama accent blew in like a magnolia breath on the wind. She hadn’t thought of him in at least thirty years. It was funny what memory and time do, and at the strangest moments. “Father Bon. Hmm-mm. Isn’t that something."


End file.
